Five Things That Never Happened
by Ijemanja
Summary: Five things that never happened under the mistletoe and five that did.


NOTES: Inspired by the 'five things' challenge that's been making the rounds in other fandoms for a while now. It's a bit of a mix'n'match, including all of the explorers, and spanning the three seasons of the show.  
  
I've been away from the fandom for a while, but just recently I was thinking about these characters again and I wanted to write something new. This is what happened. Fun to write, I must say, and nice to revisit these characters, and this show, after such a long absence.

SUMMARY: Five things that never happened under the mistletoe (and five that did). Figuring out which is which? That's the fun part.

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains some slash, along with het, pairings. If reading about two girls or two boys kissing is going to upset you in any way, this fic isn't for you. 

RATING: PG-13  
  
x

FIVE THINGS THAT NEVER HAPPENED UNDER THE MISTLETOE (AND FIVE THAT DID)

by Ijemanja

x

_The First Year:_

'It's not real mistletoe, though, is it?' Marguerite asks dubiously.

'No, I'm afraid not,' the old professor answers. 'But it's of the same genus, I believe, and rather looks the part, don't you think?' 

'It certainly does,' she agrees indulgently. 

'We've all been rather sombre lately, with Christmas coming up, and us all away from home and family. I thought it might help liven things up a bit around here.' 

With a grin, she teases, 'And just who are you thinking of catching out, Professor?' 

'Why, you, of course, my dear girl,' he replies, and holds a sprig over his head with a twinkle in his eye. 

Her grin widening, she leans forward and gives him a kiss. 

'Marvellous stuff, mistletoe, isn't it?' Summerlee muses, feeling more festive already. 

'Just so long as it doesn't give Roxton any ideas,' Marguerite mutters under her breath.

x

_Crash!_

The tray Veronica is carrying falls to the floor, along with all its contents. Ned, who has just practically bowled her over as he passed, not watching where he was going, immediately stoops to help her, apologising profusely. 

'Well, what perfect timing, you two,' Marguerite drawls. 

They look up at her, and she gleefully points over their heads. 

Immediately they both jump to their feet. 

Marguerite continues making obnoxious comments as Veronica looks away, obviously embarrassed, and Ned, stammering, rapidly turns bright red. 

'I'm sorry, it was an accident, I -' 

'Sure, Malone, just kiss her already, would you?' Marguerite, again, still obnoxious. 

It is perhaps Marguerite's grating presence more than anything that makes Veronica visibly steel herself, and then face Ned with a small smile. If so, Ned doesn't mind. Taking her smile for the encouragement it is, he reaches for her hand then leans over and presses his lips against hers for a few wonderful moments, ignoring the catcalls from the peanut gallery. 

When he draws back, Veronica's smile has grown, and she squeezes his hand slightly before releasing it. 

He suddenly feels ten feet tall, and doesn't mind at all Marguerite throwing her hands up in disgust and stomping away muttering '_puppy-love_' under her breath. 

He just kneels back down and helps Veronica clean up the mess from their collision, and then strolls away, whistling, to make an entry in his journal.

x

There are exactly three things Ned Malone considers when he runs into her, and she looks up, and grins wickedly, and says: 'Well, well, I guess this is your lucky day, Malone.'

Firstly, that he will be lucky to get out of this without either offending her and having her fly into a temper, or else simply making a complete fool out of himself, thus providing her with ample reason to laugh at him for days. 

Secondly, that if anyone happens upon them right now, he will die of embarrassment, and Marguerite will have further cause for amusement. 

Thirdly, if 'anyone' turns out to be Roxton, dying of embarrassment will not be an issue, because Roxton will kill him, mistletoe or no. 

Marguerite, being Marguerite, doesn't appear to care that he's in a bit of a quandary over the situation. In fact, she rather seems to be enjoying it. 

Marguerite is a cold, hard woman. 

At least, this is how Ned has always thought of her. 

He discovers otherwise, however, as she winds her arms around his neck. Her lips against his are neither cold, nor hard. 

Her mouth is warm, wet velvet, when he sweeps his tongue between her lips. Her body against his is sublimely soft and feminine. Her fingers teasing the hair at the back of his head are gently provocative. 

It's the sort of intriguing contrast he could devote an entire journal to describing. 

'Mmm,' she purrs in his ear, and chuckles low, 'I never knew you had it in you, Malone.' 

No other girl he's ever kissed in his life has been as dangerous, or exciting, or alluring. 

_You've never kissed a woman before_, a voice in his head informs him, and he knows it is the truth. 

x

_The Second Year:_

Veronica laughs and blushes, and looks ruefully up at the mistletoe hanging over their heads. 

Roxton grins rakishly, and winks at Ned and Marguerite across the room just before bending his head. 

Marguerite crosses her arms and watches with amused interest; Ned, however, has none of her confidence. 

He watches with teeth grinding and fisted knuckles turning white as Roxton squeezes Veronica's bare arm with one hand, and presses the small of her back with the other; as Veronica grips Roxton's shoulders in return and opens her mouth under the tall hunter's skilful kiss. 

For the time it takes Roxton to let Veronica go and sidle up to Marguerite to see whether he has made her jealous, and for Veronica to leave the room laughing and shaking her head, Ned hates Roxton. 

At the same time, though, Ned is secretly grateful it wasn't he who ended up under the mistletoe with Veronica just now. 

He knows he could never have kissed her like that.  
  
x  
  
All day he has been stalking her. She, however, being determined to both elude him and drive him mad, has proven difficult prey. Of course, Roxton is a man who likes a challenge, and she is well aware of the fact.

She has made quite the game out of lingering near the doorway where the makeshift mistletoe hangs this year, then moving quickly out of the vicinity as soon as he notices. 

Earlier that evening, they tossed around some ideas for games they might play. After the usual card games, Roxton suggested sardines, and while the others discussed it, he leaned over and whispered suggestions in Marguerite's ear for a few tight, dark places they might hole up in together, where no one would find them. 

Marguerite retaliated by sitting beside him eating nectarine slices and sucking the juice from her fingers very slowly and deliberately, all the while participating in a debate on the merits of charades. 

Later, much later, after the games have been played, and everyone has retired for the night, Roxton decides to venture into the lioness's den. 

'Can I help you?' she drawls, looking up from her bedtime preparations. 

'You're a hard one to pin down,' he tells her, and means it as a compliment. 

'Come now, Roxton, we both now you like a challenge.' 

'Well yes,' he agrees, moving closer to her, 'But do you know what I like even more?' 

She stands her ground, crossing her arms over her chest, unimpressed by his proximity. 'Do tell.' 

'Winning.' 

From behind his back he produces a sprig of mistletoe, and dangles it over her head. 

She looks up, unfazed. 'You know, some people might consider that cheating.' 

'Well, those people obviously never discovered the true meaning of Christmas.' 

'Which is?' she asks, slightly incredulous. 

'To be with the people you care about,' he answers smoothly, without missing a beat, and then leans forward and captures her lips with his before she can come up with anything else to say. 

She doesn't exactly respond with enthusiasm - doesn't leap into his arms - but she doesn't push him away or slap him either, which is a triumph in itself. 

When he cups her jaw with his free hand, and gently coaxes her mouth open, she lets him. And when he finally draws away, scraping her lower lip every so slightly between his teeth, her eyes stay closed just a bit longer than necessary, and he knows she isn't nearly so unaffected as she pretends. 

Exactly three seconds later she is forcibly evicting him from her room. 

He goes willingly enough, laughing when she picks up the mistletoe where it had fallen forgotten to the floor, and throws it after him. 

Challenges are all very well and good - they certainly keep things interesting - but taking home the prize? There's nothing like it, Roxton thinks, as he goes to seek his bed.

x  
  
The girls are asleep, and Challenger, if not also in bed, is otherwise working in his laboratory; either way, they won't be seeing him again tonight.

It's nearly Christmas, but it certainly doesn't feel like it. The unseasonable weather sees them out on the balcony, enjoying the relative cool of the night, relaxing with a drink or two in hand and their feet up. Malone sits in his undershirt, while Roxton has long done away with his altogether. This will be their second Christmas on the Plateau, and with the liquor, reminiscing comes easily. 

Silent snow falling, the smell of roasting poultry and evergreen garlands, glistening jellies, brandy custard and plum pudding... 

'I always found the time off school as good as anything,' Malone adds. 

'Oh no, Christmas was the best time at school,' Roxton says. 'The masters were all in good moods, the cooks spoiled us with sweets...' he smiles, remembering. 

'So... is it true what they say goes on in those exclusive boys boarding schools?' Malone jokes, with the help of the Dutch courage in his hand. 

Roxton, not wanting to be shown up, grins and replies: 'You wouldn't believe the sorts of things that went on after lights-out.' 

Malone scoffs and laughs a bit in disbelief, but doesn't seem particularly shocked or embarrassed. This leaves Roxton wondering, not for the first time, just how much of Ned Malone's innocent act is just that. 

A while later, they decide to go in and search out something more to drink and perhaps something to eat, too - Veronica has been outdoing herself making holiday treats, with Marguerite even lending a hand to varying degrees of success. 

He doesn't plan it, but acts on impulse when they cross the threshold together, passing beneath the mistletoe that has been hanging there the past few days. He reaches out and catches Malone's arm, stopping him.

They stare at each other for a moment, unmoving but for the rise and fall of their chests as they breathe.

Malone meets his gaze evenly, and it's this as much as anything that makes Roxton take the next step.

He leans in towards the other man, his voice husky as he says: 'What do you think of this, then?'

He traps Malone's jaw in his large hand and kisses him thoroughly.

'Well, Merry Christmas to you, too, Roxton,' Malone answers when given the chance.

In the dim light, Roxton can see he's smirking, his lips glistening ever so slightly, reddened and wet. Malone's eyes hold a speculative look, and this coupled with the hands resting comfortably on his bare stomach tell Roxton his suspicions are correct.

Ned Malone isn't really so innocent after all.  
  
x 

'Isn't it nice to have the men out of our hair for a while?'

'Come now, Veronica dear,' Marguerite condescends, 'I know you're secretly pining away for Malone already.' 

'Well if I am missing him,' Veronica returns dryly, unfazed by the teasing, 'It's the first chance I've had in a while.' 

'You wouldn't,' Marguerite says, 'By any chance, be referring to the manner in which young Ned follows you around like a puppy dog? _I'll help you with that laundry, Veronica! Can I carry that terribly heavy thing for you, Veronica? With my manly muscles? Oh Veronica, would you like to go for a very polite walk with me? I will very politely hold your hand and politely compliment your womanly virtues_,' Marguerite snickers. 

'He does not sound like that!' Veronica protests, laughing in spite of herself. 'Besides, what about Roxton? _Look at me, I'm the great white hunter_,' Veronica drawls, making her voice low and manly. She uses her height to loom over the shorter woman and crowd her personal space. '_Why don't you come over here, Marguerite, and I'll show you my gun? You look like a woman who knows how to handle a weapon_.' 

'Why Lord Roxton,' Marguerite replies coquettishly, fluttering her eyelashes up at Veronica, 'Whatever are you implying? I'm sure I can't guess, you're being much too subtle.' 

She laughs at their play-acting, and then produces a rather wilted sprig of mistletoe from her pocket to show Veronica. 

'You know, I had to liberate this from Roxton this morning. He was getting ideas.' 

'Well it's not like you don't encourage him,' Veronica accuses. 

'Trust me, the man needs no encouragement. He cornered me outside my room, and leaned in,' she says, leaning in towards the other woman. 'And then he started doing this,' she adds, running the edges of the leaves idly up and down Veronica's bare arm. 

Veronica snatches the sprig away. 'And then what did he do? This?' she asks, and kisses Marguerite. 

'No,' Marguerite laughs against Veronica's lips. 'I took the mistletoe off him and told him to go cool down. For some reason,' she muses, as Veronica kisses her jaw, 'He suddenly seemed very keen on going hunting.' 

'I knew we already had enough meat stores to see us through Christmas,' Veronica replies, as Marguerite's arms encircle her waist. 'Still, it is nice to have the treehouse to ourselves.' 

'Indeed. We really ought to encourage the boys to go hunting more often.'  
  
x

_The Third Year:_

'I don't get it.'

'Hm?' Challenger responds distractedly. 

'This stuff,' Finn clarifies, waving a branch of greenery and white berries under his nose. 'Marguerite's hanging it all over the place, and when I asked her, she said it was an aphrodisiac. She was joking, right?' 

'She most certainly was.' 

'I mean, I thought the whole deal with Christmas was supposed to be religion. Not sex.' 

Challenger's eyebrows shoot up at that, though the time he's spent with Finn should have already taught him not to be surprised at anything she says. 

'It's just another holiday tradition, Finn,' he lectures, 'Like plum pudding and carols. You hang it somewhere overhead, and if you happen to find yourself standing beneath it with somebody - whether by accident or design - then you are supposed to give them a kiss.' 

'Oh,' she frowns a little as she considers it. 

'Harmless practice, I suppose,' he continues. 'Though naturally I don't have much use for it.' 

'How come?' 

'I am a married man, as you know. Besides, I'm hardly interested in such frivolities,' he scoffs. 

'Oh, come on, Challenger. You're a scientist, but you're not _that_ boring.' 

'Thank you for that resounding appraisal,' he says dryly. 

She rolls her eyes. 'You know what I mean. Come on, I wanna try this.' 

She reaches up to a nearby shelf and sticks the branch into an empty pot, then tugs Challenger's arm until he stands next to her. She has to go up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. 

'Happy Christmas, Challenger!' she says, then adds, 'Did I do it right?' 

He chuckles, struck, suddenly, by how much he has come to care for this young woman. 

'Just perfect,' he replies, and leaning over, he returns the gesture.  
  
x

'Is it just me, or is this mistletoe thing getting out of hand?' Veronica comments to Finn, having just tripped over Marguerite and Roxton taking advantage of the holiday tradition yet again in the doorway. 

'Marguerite's put that stuff all over the treehouse. I don't get it - it's not like they need the excuse,' Finn responds, then adds under her breath: 'And it's not like anyone else around here is getting much use out of it.' 

Veronica sighs. 

'Hey, are you thinking about Ned again?' 

'No, it's not that.' 

Finn rolls her eyes. 'Liar.' 

'No, I really wasn't,' Veronica protests. 

'Okay,' Finn says dubiously. 'Hey, wanna go swimming? I'm bored.' 

'Well, we're supposed to be helping make decorations...' 

'Like the others? They're not exactly working hard, are they? Anyway, all this fuss about Christmas, seems a bit much, if you ask me. What's the big deal? There's plenty of time to do all that stuff later, anyway, if you really want.' 

Veronica is finding it more and more easy to let Finn persuade her. 

'You're right, let's go.' 

They cross the room to where the lift is sitting, waiting. 

'I can't believe you've never celebrated Christmas before, though - even here with just my parents it was a big deal,' Veronica says as they step on. 

Finn is looking thoughtfully at the top of the lift. 'I'm starting to like the whole idea, actually,' she says. 

Veronica follows her gaze, and frowns. 'I thought Challenger took that one down yesterday.' 

Finn shrugs. 'What the hell, it's a tradition, right?' 

Veronica is surprised, to say the least, when Finn steps into her personal space, slings an arm around her neck, and kisses her. 

It's different from kissing a man, that's for sure - softer and smoother. Veronica just has time to begin to be intrigued by the girl pressing against her in new and interesting ways, and then it's over. 

The lift reaches the ground and Finn pulls back, grinning widely. 'Betcha I could make you forget all about Ned, Veronica,' she says. 

Veronica realises suddenly that she doesn't doubt that for a second. 

'Hey, race ya to the swimming hole!' 

Laughing, Finn is already away, heading for the gate in the electric fence. Veronica takes off after her, determined to catch up. 

She hasn't had so much fun in ages.  
  
x

'Not this stuff again,' Marguerite rolls her eyes, 'It's not even the real thing, you all realise.' 

'You seemed to enjoy it well enough last year,' Roxton says. 

She raises her eyebrows. 'Did I? I don't recall.' 

'Well, allow me to jog your memory, then.' 

He advances, while the others watch with interest. 

'Oh no,' she warns, stepping back, but is not quick enough. 

He catches her round the waist and swings her over into the right spot, beneath the newly hung mistletoe. To the cheers of their audience, he dips her back and presses a noisy, enthusiastic kiss to her lips, before bringing her back up again, flushed and sputtering. 

She pushes him away, calling him a few choice names as she pats down her hair and straightens her blouse. But she isn't really angry, and everyone knows it. 

Roxton just looks smug. 

Later, after everyone else has gone to bed, he takes her hand and draws her back under the mistletoe, where he kisses and kisses her. 

This time, she doesn't protest at all. 

end

xoxox

Remember, feedback is good Karma!


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